Bonjour et bienvenue.

À la Une

Bienvenue sur ce blog.

J’aime beaucoup écrire, et j’ai un certain nombre d’idées.

Voici les textes que j’ai écrits jusqu’ici :

Il s’agit de chapitres sur la vie de trois étudiantes en fac, leurs joies et leurs déboires.

Ce sont de courts textes créés à partir d’un mot trouvé au hasard dans le dictionnaire dans l’ordre alphabétique. Chaque série a 26 petits textes.

Ce sont de petits textes écrits à partir de plusieurs mots choisis au hasard.


French version : Abîme

Underneath, the water. Above, the sky. On either side, the mountains, huge and intoxicating. The sky reflected in the water. The mountains standing on tiptoes, vainly trying to reach the sky. The water flowing peacefully, looking up at the sky. A whole world in a few parts. And there it was, at the very edge of the ledge, breathing in the surrounding air. And she danced and she laughed and she laughed and she laughed. And she was shouting her head off. And she just lived. In harmony with nature. Just as nature was in osmosis… Water with the sky. The sky with the water. A bond working both ways. Not just one or the other. No. Both. Both. Sky and water. Water and sky. Mountains and sky. And she who lived in the middle. Some clouds near the mountains. White, white as snow. But the snow isn’t there yet. When will it be here? One day, maybe. But not today. The snow will still be waiting. This isn’t the time for that. For now, the clouds float silently over the mountains, mountains so high they could almost reach the sky on tiptoe. Can they? Can they? Have they ever tried? Maybe it’s possible, after all. It is often said that skyscrapers touch the sky. It’s even said quite often. But does that mean it’s true? It doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t always have to be. Could something on earth be big enough to touch the sky? These mountains, perhaps. These mountains, always trying and trying but never succeeding. But are they that high, if they can’t touch the sky, even with their fingertips? Maybe they can’t. Maybe those mountains so high are just too small to reach the sky. 

But they’re still higher than the one dancing on the ledge, aren’t they? Then they’re still quite high. But not high enough. And is she, dancing on the ledge, high enough to touch that sky, which seems so high that no one can really reach it, not even the highest mountains on earth? Probably not alone, she couldn’t. But maybe by climbing up the mountain, by going all the way up, by climbing up the flanks of this immense creation of nature, she will be able to try. Once she gets to the top, she’ll lift a finger to the sky, and maybe she’ll touch it. Maybe she can. But then she would have to try to climb all the way up there, up the side of the mountain. Maybe she’ll go. When she’s done dancing, laughing, and shouting… Someday… Someday. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe a week from now. But what’s a week to nature? It doesn’t care about the weather. And in the meantime, the water goes on its way. It goes further and further, faster and faster down the slope. And it looks at the sky, trying to touch it too. She doesn’t despair. Will she succeed? It is yet the lowest element in this landscape.

But it’s also the most determined. The most determined to touch the sky despite her position in nature. The clouds could also touch the sky. But they’re too busy arguing with the mountain on tiptoe to try to reach the blue vastness. And she’s still dancing, to music carried by the wind. Only she hears it. Her and the mountain, the water and the clouds. The sky is far too high to hear her. But the mountain tells what it has heard, and it can enjoy it too. The music never stops. She twirls, goes down to the water that always wants to reach the sky, its father. The music continues on its way, brushing against the mountain that helps him to reach the sky. The sun is there, too. It has just woken up. The music has brought it out of its dream. It rubs its eyes, still asleep. It wonders why nature is so restless. 

The mountain is trying to reach the sky, the water is looking up at the sky, smiling, promising that it will join it one day, the clouds are dreaming in the middle of it all and she keeps dancing, tirelessly. The sun stretches out and goes back to sleep, reluctant to try to understand what is happening to them. Anyway, it went to bed late the night before, and it’s tired now. And the landscape goes back to what it was before. The mountains grow bigger and bigger in the hope of reaching the blue vastness above them, the clouds float above them, the water flows peacefully as it tries to reach the sky, and it laughs, sputters, dances, screams. The sky sees the water. The water sees the sky. They look at each other.

Then the rain starts to fall. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. Water can reach the sky. Rainwater floods the mountains, and they’re tired of standing on their toes. She’s still dancing, still screaming, still sputtering, still screaming under this deluge of water that sticks her hair to her cheeks. She is alive, quite simply. And the water continues to flow, feeling the rain falling, happy that the sky has come.

Other English texts

It’s a rock

French version : C’est un roc

She was alone on that beach. Everyone was gone. They sensed something bad was about to happen. But not her. She’d always been unconscious. Innocent. Maybe even a little foolish around the edges. But only when it suited her.

Still, she should have known by now. She should have felt it. Like all those people who were in such a hurry to get as far away from that beach as possible. This beach, which had once been a place of relaxation, this beach that had been the scene of their summer games. This beach that they had always known like this. It was one of the few things in their lives that did not change. That didn’t want to change. Or didn’t dare to. Which was quite different, because in one case it was courage, and in the other it was cowardice.  Two very different things, separated by a huge gap. 

In any case, the people had fled from this beach that had once seemed wonderful, magical and mysterious to them.  They were fleeing the place where they had spent so many summers as children. They were gone now.  Maybe they didn’t like it so much, this place after all. They hadn’t grown attached to it, despite the years they’d spent there. How could such a…
Can such veneration, such admiration, evaporate like water in the sun? How can a person change his mind like that, so abruptly? Today she was the only one left. Only her. Only her.  The only person on this totally deserted beach. Deserted by all those ungrateful people, because it had allowed them to have a good time, this beach. Very good times, even.  Some of them lived there practically all summer long, on that beach! Or rather they had lived there.  You had to say it in the past tense.  They wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.  They had run away in a hurry, and they weren’t coming back.

And so there she was, on that beach that had seen so many people pass by, but she was alone. Motionless, lonely, brave, determined, her nose to the wind, her hair in a mess, she was holding on. She stood there while everyone else had run away. She was a rock, she didn’t give up, tossed by the winds, shaken like a salad basket. Tenacious. Fighting against forces far more powerful than herself, a mere human. Fighting, fighting, fighting. She withstood the pressure of the elements.  Facing it.

Facing the giant of nature. There in front of her, advancing furiously at the speed of a galloping horse, stood a huge roaring wave. She spread her arms, closed her eyes and waited for the shock. Nature sweeping over men. A straw in the middle of the storm. The great powers of the elements were at work, who was she to stop them? The collision would not be long in coming. And then it would vibrate in unison with nature…

Other English texts

By night

French version : By night

Not a sound. No one at the horizon. A perfect time for a little late-night stroll around town. That feeling of freedom being outside at a time when no one’s out. At a time when everyone’s asleep. Everyone? Well, maybe not everyone. Only a privileged few have the honor of contemplating this limitless realm that is the night. A city at night is nothing like a city by day. This difference varies from city to city, but in general, the feeling of being at the centre of the world, of being able to live life to the fullest, that guilty joy of being outside while others sleep is common. 
Those stairs where the children played so much. Those old stairs that have been damaged by time. They look completely different at night. They regain their youth, their beauty of yesteryear. Because at night, all cats are grey. That goes for many other things too. 

The street lamps are lit at night. They are the only visible source of light. If you don’t count the possible small lights coming from apartments or houses that are not yet asleep at this hour. The houses are now unattractive, unsightly and almost frightening masses. By day, they are at the cutting edge of fashion. By night they are gloomy. Night makes them dark and silent, as if they were abandoned. But they are not, because they are full of life during the day. The few passers-by hurry home, for although the walk is pleasant, it is better not to be too long. You never know. Although the night has never (you never know) eaten anyone yet, it is better to avoid staying too much outside after sunset. 
But those who return home cannot enjoy the peace and quiet of places deserted by humans. In the houses, the eyes are closed and will only reopen the next morning. What a pity to have missed the world of the night! 

The footsteps on the cobblestones have stopped, the running on the stairs and the laughter of the children too. Everything is quiet now. The cars are getting scarcer. The gravel is resting after screaming under the feet of passers-by all day long. The lampposts are back in service, they who used to sleep soundly during the day. One drop falls from the sky, then two, then three. Little by little, the ground gets wet. Eventually the rain comes down and a thousand drops splash the sleeping world. Their fall can be heard and resounds in the comfortable silence created by the darkness. All the little noises come out even more in the darkness. 

The rain redoubles, quickly giving way to the storm. In the houses, everyone curls up under their duvet, happy not to be out there in the pouring rain. 

Other English texts


French version : Vision

She was walking alone in the forest when suddenly she saw her. Her white dress formed a light stain that stood out among the trees. It was a very unexpected sight. She had been coming to these woods for a long time and had never seen anything like this before. Not a person like the one she saw, but the situation was quite strange. 
It was a girl in a white dress, or maybe it was her pyjamas, she was far away after all. She was holding something in her hand, something that hung pitifully beside her. Probably a toy. Something precious to her, so she took it with her to go for a walk in the forest with it. What was she doing there? Mystery. 

It was rare to find children alone in the forest. The parents usually watched them closely, which never really stopped them from doing something stupid. Where were this girl’s parents? She considered calling her, but she changed her mind. Why did she change her mind? She didn’t know. She tried to get closer to the little figure in the distance, but she couldn’t. For some inexplicable reason, even though the girl didn’t walk fast, she never managed to reach her. Yet she walked. But it seemed as if she wasn’t moving forward. She walked like that for a long time, trying to catch up with the child, without success. 

Exhausted, she let herself fall to the ground, closing her eyes for a few seconds. Immediately, she felt a kind of air movement grazing her cheek. Reopening her eyes, she only had time to widen her eyes before coming face to face with the child. The latter had a frightening head. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. It was the last thing she saw before her vision blurred. 

Other English texts

The tradition

French version : La tradition

At the age of eighteen, everyone was given a mystical animal. It was tradition. Her friend had already gotten hers. She’d had an owl, an animal that’s actually quite common in this magical world. Laura had told her, and she had made a new enemy. Laura wasn’t afraid to tell her thoughts, and not many people liked people who said what they thought, even if what they said was true. Laura hadn’t had her pet yet. She hoped it would be at least a little more original than an owl. It wouldn’t be her choice, it would be chance, magic, chance and magic, or maybe neither, she didn’t know. Anyway, her birthday was coming up. She was going to be eighteen.

On her eighteenth birthday, she went to the cliffs, to the place where the tradition of handing over an animal occurred. She waited with those who were born on the same day as her. And, at the appointed time, animals came out of the magical fog that had formed. Each of the animals made their way to the person they were destined for. Laura had closed her eyes, like everyone else. She wouldn’t know which one it was until she was allowed to open them. Soon she felt a snout touching her fingers. She opened her eyes when she was given permission and came face to face… with a unicorn! The unicorn was white with purple hair. It was indeed more original than the owl! Laura smiled at the animal that rubbed its head against her hand.

Other English texts

(Le destin, ce puzzle) Chapitre 16 : La pagination

Paula était dans sa chambre en train d’étudier, quand quelqu’un frappa à la porte. C’était étrange que la personne ait frappé, car d’habitude, Mina et Daisy ne frappaient pas, elles entraient juste sans demander la permission. Peut-être avaient-elles enfin appris à frapper ? Paula essayait de les éduquer quant à cette pratique depuis plusieurs mois déjà, sans succès. Elle avait dû s’habituer à les voir entrer sans prévenir, à toute heure du jour ou de la nuit. Cela réduisait sérieusement l’intimité. A moins que les portes aient des verrous, ce qui n’était pas le cas. Il y avait bien des serrures, mais elles n’avaient pas vu l’ombre d’une clef depuis qu’elles avaient emménagé. Le propriétaire ne les avait pas données s’il y en avait. Peut-être s’étaient-elles perdues au fil des années ? 

En tout cas, quelqu’un venait de frapper, et c’était étonnant. Paula dit à la personne d’entrer, et la porte s’entrebâilla. La tête de Daisy apparut. Elle souriait. Elle devait vouloir quelque chose. Un service, ou de l’aide pour un devoir. Paula avait appris à la connaître, au fur et à mesure. Elle voulait quelque chose, c’était certain. Elle lui fit signe d’entrer, attendant que son amie lui expose le motif de sa visite soudaine. Daisy s’intéressa d’abord à ce qu’elle faisait, mais elle arriva bien vite dans le vif du sujet. En fait, elle avait besoin d’aide pour un devoir, mais ce n’était pas tout à fait ce qu’avait imaginé Paula. Elle ne savait pas comment numéroter le bas des pages. En d’autres termes, elle ne savait pas comment faire la pagination du devoir de façon automatique. Mina lui avait raconté que Paula savait le faire, et elle était venue lui demander ce service. 

Paula lui mit la numérotation en place, puis elle lui remontra comment s’y prendre, lui laissant le temps de prendre des notes sur la méthode, espérant qu’elle saurait faire à l’avenir et qu’elle ne viendrait pas la déranger pour cette même raison le week-end suivant. 

(Le destin, ce puzzle) Chapitre 15 : Cours ob-liga-toire

Les filles avaient cours toute la semaine, et en principe, tous leurs cours étaient obligatoires. Bon, en réalité, certaines d’entre elles n’allaient pas souvent aux cours magistraux dans lesquels on pouvait ne pas venir assez facilement, en tout cas plus facilement que lors des travaux pratiques. Mais en principe, elle ne manquaient des cours que quand elles n’en pouvaient plus, ou quand elles avaient un peu trop joué aux jeux vidéos la veille. Mais cette fois-ci, Paula et Daisy savaient que Mina s’apprêtait à sécher un cours qui n’était absolument pas en amphithéâtre. Un cours important. Elles l’avaient appris en voyant qu’elle ne s’était pas préparée cette après-midi-là. Elle avait d’ordinaire un cours en même temps qu’elles, c’était d’ailleurs plutôt rare car les cours dans des licences différentes pouvaient beaucoup varier et elles ne se voyaient quasiment jamais vraiment à la fac à cause de ça. Mais cette fois-ci, Mina avait clairement décidé de rester à la maison.

Les deux autres filles savaient que manquer ce cours pouvait lui coûter sa licence. Ou du moins une année serait perdue car elle manquerait un cours de travaux dirigés. Le présentiel faisait partie de la note du semestre. Et les profs étaient généralement sévères sur ce point. Elle n’échapperait pas à la mauvaise note. Les filles, qui savaient que Mina n’accepterait jamais de les suivre en sachant où elles allaient, inventèrent une histoire en lui disant qu’elles aussi allaient sécher et qu’elles avaient découvert un endroit fabuleux, un café, et qu’il fallait qu’elles lui bandent les yeux pour lui laisser la surprise du lieu jusqu’au bout. 

Habituée à leurs excentricités, Mina ne posa pas de question et se laissa faire. Les deux autres filles la menèrent directement à la fac, dans sa classe. Elles l’assirent dans la classe, lui posèrent son sac, un blog de feuilles et un stylo et lui retirèrent son bandeau, fuyant dans le couloir avant même qu’elle ait eu le temps de réagir. Lorsqu’elle se rendit compte de l’endroit où elle était, elle voulut partir. Mais c’était trop tard, le prof l’avait vu. Elle fit comme si de rien n’était, prenant son stylo dans sa main et fulminant, maudissant les autres filles de l’avoir piégée ainsi. Mais elle eut la pause pour réfléchir. Elle finit par comprendre que ses deux colocataires lui avaient sauvé la mise, en réalité. Aussi, quand elle rentra chez elles le soir, elle les remercia. Elle avait initialement prévu de leur tordre le cou, mais elle avait compris son idiotie. Heureusement qu’elle les avait. Ceux qui échouaient à la fac ne devaient pas avoir des amies comme les siennes pour les pousser à aller en cours !

(Le destin, ce puzzle) Chapitre 14 : Le devoir de Daisy

Aujourd’hui, Daisy était dans tous ses états. Elle allait et venait dans l’appartement d’une façon beaucoup plus énergique que d’habitude, c’est à dire qu’on aurait dit qu’il y avait le feu. En principe, elle marchait en traînant les pieds, mais là, elle avançait à grandes enjambées, ayant l’air très affairée.Mina et Paula la regardaient passer, interdites. Mais qu’avait-elle ? Elle se comportait ainsi depuis bien une demi-heure, et il n’y avait aucun signe de changement dans les prochaines minutes. Elle allait continuer encore un bon moment, a priori. 

Ce ne fut que quand Mina se mit en travers de son chemin qu’elle s’arrêta, mais seulement pour lui dire de s’écarter, qu’elle était occupée. Paula lui demanda alors ce qu’elle faisait, en profitant tant qu’elle était coincée par Mina. Elles finirent par savoir qu’elle avait un devoir à faire pour un de ses cours. C’était pour un cours d’art, et elle était en retard, le temps pour le rendre arrivait bientôt. Elle n’avait pas commencé le travail et elle s’affolait le weekend avant. Effectivement, il y avait de quoi s’agiter de la sorte. Comment allait-elle faire ? Apparemment, il n’y avait pas de sujet, il fallait en trouver un. Et c’était précisément ce qui faisait paniquer Daisy. 

Mina et Paula réfléchirent un moment. Elles voulaient l’aider à trouver une idée. De toute manière, elles ne pourraient pas l’aider sur le devoir lui-même, elles n’étaient pas exactement douées en dessin ou en peinture. Ce fut finalement en se promenant dans l’appartement que Paula trouva la solution. Elle venait de revenir dans la cuisine, quand elle vit la corbeille de fruits. Mais bien sûr ! Daisy pouvait faire une sorte de nature morte revisitée! Elle courut en parler à l’intéressée qui la remercia chaudement de lui avoir trouvé un sujet. Elle se mit aussitôt au travail.Trois jours (et au moins deux nuits blanches) plus tard, elle leur présenta le résultat final. C’était magnifique. Elles la félicitèrent pour avoir réussi à faire une telle œuvre d’art en ayant très peu de temps. Mais Paula lui dit de s’y prendre beaucoup plus tôt, la prochaine fois. Cela causerait moins de stress à tout le monde…

(Le destin, ce puzzle) Chapitre 13 : La triste fin de la machine à laver

Elle avait rendu l’âme. C’était fini. Il n’y avait vraiment plus rien à faire pour elle. C’était désolant. Daisy avait essayé de l’utiliser un matin, et elle n’avait plus voulu lancer le cycle de lavage. Plus jamais. Elle avait fait son chant du cygne. La lumière verte s’était éteinte à jamais. Mais les filles n’étaient pas sentimentales. Leur tristesse avait une toute autre raison. Elles n’avaient pas pour habitude de s’attacher aux objets comme certaines personnes le faisaient parfois. Non, c’était plutôt parce qu’elles n’avaient plus rien pour laver leur linge, et le temps qu’elles puissent en racheter une et la faire installer, cela allait prendre des mois. 

Elles n’avaient plus le choix. Il fallait qu’elles aillent à la laverie. C’était bien triste, mais c’était vrai. Une demi-heure de marche (car la seule voiture qu’elles avaient n’était pas en bonne forme) était nécessaire pour aller à la laverie la plus proche. En plus, il leur fallait avoir de la monnaie pour les machines automatiques à pièces de la laverie. Elles ne payaient pratiquement que par carte ce qu’elles achetaient habituellement, alors il allait falloir changer leurs façons de faire. Et de manière radicale. Car sans monnaie, la machine ne fonctionnerait pas. Et elles ne pourraient pas laver leur linge. 

Autre problème de la laverie, il leur fallait soit attendre que le linge soit lavé, soit aller deux fois à la laverie, et donc marcher pendant littéralement deux heures en tout avec les allers-retours. Vraiment, cette machine à laver aurait pu, aurait dû rester en vie un peu plus longtemps.